


The Inopportune Moment

by seori



Category: Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Alternate Universe, Decathlon, F/M, Forum: Goldenlake, The Imperious Duchess of Naxen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-02
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2017-10-22 03:21:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/233179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seori/pseuds/seori
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gareth returns from battle, to find life hasn't stood still in Corus, and his friend and the lady he'd like to call his have found solace in each other in his absence. Written for Goldenlake's Decathlon project - my Field Event entries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Binding

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Lisa for the initial concept, plus proof-reading and the solarium ;)

It had been a long autumn.

Gareth closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall of the solarium, having sought respite in the one place he reasoned people wouldn't think to look for him. He was tired, right the way through his bones, and still had a thousand petty squabbles to settle as Champion. On top of this, Roald had requested his presence at tonight's ball, and Gareth had had time only to bathe and change clothes before it began.

It had taken him less than half an hour to tire, and not much longer to seek refuge.

"Your Grace, I appreciate that you have been gone for a number of months, but surely you can't have forgotten that solariums are intended for the sunshine."

He looked up, finding - as he knew he would - the sister of his first squire.

"Lady Roanna," he greeted, not quite able to summon the energy to stand for her, though he did make the effort to straighten in his seat. She wouldn't care for the breach in propriety, not when they knew each other of old. "You grow more perceptive every time I see you."

She laughed, and slipped inside the room. "Sir, that is what every lady longs to hear."

He watched her as she chose the seat next to him, carefully arranging her skirts. It suddenly occurred to him that he had never seen her in such opulent clothes. Irimor was a rich house, to be sure, but Roanna rarely opted to display it so openly.

Roanna had sought him out...

Gareth cleared his throat, feeling a blush heat his cheeks. She was so young - not much older than his sister - and it had prevented him from speaking up more times than he could count. Time was going to run out for him if he didn't speak up, though. He didn't think he'd be able to bear her on the arm of somebody who didn't deserve her. Better the awkwardness of a refusal than that.

"How is the ball, in my absence?" he asked.

She threw him a side glance, adjusting her bracelets. They caught the light of the few candles he had found in the room, scattering little beams across the floor. "It is a ball," she answered, with the air of one who attended all the balls. "People are dancing, the musicians are playing, and the Duke of Naxen is notable by his absence."

He couldn't quite disguise his pleasure at his absence being referred to as notable. "Are people speculating on the king's betrothal?"

"I believe some people may be," Roanna said, her eyes fixing on his. Gareth had always found her gaze challenging, in a way quite unlike most ladies, who seemed to feel he would prefer them to stare at the ground. "Are _you_ one of these people, sir?"

"If you are looking for information, I'm afraid I have none to give you. Roald wrote me a letter telling me he was engaged, but not the identity of the lady. My sister will be upset once she knows - she was so fond of him, but she has been convalescing at Naxen this past year, and I hear the Dowager Queen has impressed upon Roald the need for heirs."

Roanna nodded, and shivered - she was hardly dressed to pass the evening in a glass room, after all. "Perhaps we ought to join the rest of the ball," she suggested, rising.

"In a moment," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. If he didn't say it now, he never would. Courage, Gareth. He found it on the battlefield; it did not stand to reason that his nerve should desert him now. "Lady Roanna, you have always been-"

"Don't say it," she entreated brokenly, turning away from him. "I cannot bear it if you say it."

Feeling as though he had just been blindsided, Gareth swallowed hard. "My apologies, my lady. I had not thought my offer would be so unwelcome to you."

Roanna looked back at him, her face pinched. "I did not think you would be making an offer at all," she said, voice low. "I thought - I thought you would surely have spoken before now, and perhaps you weren't the marrying kind, at least not where I was concerned." Every word was like a needle, but he could tell the final blow was coming as she drew in a deep breath, and settled her eyes on the floor. "I took another offer."

And then it clicked. Her fine clothes. Roald's sudden interest in a woman who wasn't Lianne. The reason Roald hadn't needed to secure Gareth's approval, because he had already _known_ Gareth approved of this woman. He just hadn't thought Gareth wanted to marry her. Roald had asked about it, and oh, Gareth had brushed her aside, assuming she wouldn't want him.

"I'm a fool," Gareth murmured bitterly.

"You are. I - Gareth, I can't get out of it. I've given him my word. If you'd seen him when he proposed - he called me pulchritudinous, and then I had to have him, for I had no idea what it meant." She smiled wryly, but it didn't look right on her, not with those overbright eyes. "I thought it was an insult, but he said it was - oh, what does it matter?"

It didn't matter. Gareth knew what Roald had said. It had been Gareth's favourite line, declaring that it was the woman who made the word beautiful. Roald had been impressed, had even - Mithros - used it on Lianne. He had sworn to Gareth that it had meant something, that Lianne was the one for him.

"Congratulations."

She nodded, making the effort to compose herself. "Will Your Grace kindly escort me back to the ballroom?"

"It would be my pleasure, my lady," he said wearily - how had he thought himself tired before? - getting to his feet, and holding out his arm. Roanna took it, glancing up into his eyes, and, Mithros's shield, this was going to be the hardest thing he had done in his life.


	2. Weak Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roanna is concerned when Gareth is taken ill. Written for Love Long Jump.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my Single Sentence Shot Put; felt like a bit of a cheat to have it as a separate chapter!
> 
> Cold Inside
> 
> The royal wedding was in January, and Gareth felt chilly despite the large fires and Lianne pressed up close against him as he watched his king take Roanna's hand.

 

* * *

 

Weak Hearts

"May I come in?"

Gareth rubbed his eyes, and gave Roanna - Queen Roanna, he should be used to that by now - a half-amused look. "I could not prevent you if I wished it, Your Majesty. Royal prerogative."

" _You_ could," she answered, flushing. "Naxen prerogative." She entered regardless; evidently Naxen privilege, such as it was, would be waived for the time being. Perhaps it was the fact that she currently accounted for two royals. "How are you feeling?"

He couldn't hold back a grimace as he took stock of his physical well-being, assuming that she wouldn't care to hear how sometimes he thought the only thing worse than seeing her with Roald was not seeing her at all. Still, he did his best, leading his men off on campaigns or border patrol in the king's name. Somehow his feet always brought him back to the palace.

"As well as could be expected."

The lie didn't convince her; she came to sit in the chair which had been set out earlier for Lianne. On closer inspection, she looked far paler than usual, and it brought out dark circles under her eyes. He wondered how much her pregnancy was taking out of her, and considered having a quiet word to his healer. "Will you promise me not to overexert yourself? At least for a little while. It isn't long till winter begins." Her fingers inched next to his, folded on top of the blankets. "Roald has me confined to the palace; he is terrified I will slip and lose the heir to the throne."

"He has your safety in mind also," Gareth said gently.

"Does he?" Roanna asked, and then shook her head. "Oh, Gareth, don't mind me. I have been in a terrible mood since - well, last night."

Last night was when he had been taken ill. Pricklings down his arm, a tightness in his chest. "Lianne told me the Queenscove boy reached me first. Seems to have a prodigious talent."

"I nearly promoted him to Chief Healer on the spot," Roanna admitted, with a rueful smile, "once he told us you were going to be fine. I can't imagine Genlith would have been too pleased with me."

"Unlikely," Gareth acknowledged, matching her smile. "It is not much to concern yourself with; I have always known I have a weak heart."

Her hand came to rest, feather-light, on top of his. He dared not move for fear of disturbing the moment. "Stronger than any other man I have ever known," she said fiercely, as though daring him to contest it. "Gareth, I cannot tell you how much I regret-"

"Hush, now," he instructed, having been about to follow through with a finger on her lips, but thinking better of it. "Speaking it aloud will help neither of us."

Roanna was silent a long time after that, her eyes on their entwined hands. He watched her face, hoping for an indication of what she was thinking. Finally, she rose, and pressed her lips to his forehead. "I will leave you to rest. Please - consider staying."


	3. Entertaining Goats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The royal family relocates to the summer palace. Written for my Humour High Jump entry.

Relocating to the summer palace had always been somewhat of an event, as far as Gareth remembered it. One of his proudest memories included the late king, telling Gareth that he trusted him enough to place the royal family in his care. Roald had been but a page then, all determined eyes and quiet voiced as he asked Gareth to teach him how to fight.

Roald would never be a great swordsman, but he had the makings of a decent one, Gareth had observed. The trouble was, he had never desired to work at it, save in the interests of making his father proud.

And so Gareth's position under Roald's reign took on a different air, with his diplomatic skills being favoured. As his horse followed the now-familiar meandering path ahead, however, he thought back to that first time, and his veins buzzed with that same hot desire to keep everybody safe.

\--

"Sometimes I think there is nothing more beautiful than this view."

Gareth turned his head as Roanna seated herself beside him on the thick rug, giving her a long look. Her cheeks turned pink, and for a moment, all the unspoken things hung in the air between them.

He didn't often breach propriety, and dared not to disturb the balance too much now. "Where is Caitlyn?"

"The nurse has her." Roanna shaded her eyes, looking out towards the sea. "Roger's with them. I must say, he has surprised me. In the month or so before Caitlyn was born, he was sulky and distant, but Roald had a talk to him and explained he would always be a valued member of the family. Now, well, you can't have one without the other. He is like her shadow - a vastly bigger shadow that does everything for her."

Gareth nodded his agreement. In truth, he had had little time for Roald's brother, and less time for the peculiar nephew. It was good, though, that Caitlyn was well-loved by the family. Roald hadn't quite managed to hide his disappointment at having produced a daughter, and the girl so thoroughly resembled Fief Irimor that she might have been Roanna's child alone.

"This is the kind of day that makes me feel as though I could live forever," Roanna remarked contentedly. "Don't you agree? I would move here if I could. Permanently, not merely for the summer."

"Oh?" Gareth asked, a smirk playing around his lips. "And what would you do for entertainment, in the winter?"

"Build things out of the snow," Roanna retorted, a quick remark always at the tip of her tongue. "With the goats."

"The goats have more intelligence than you, my lady - Queen. They come further inland during the winter. Perhaps you may happen upon a lone wolf or two."

Roanna leaned back on her elbows, looking entirely like the arch seventeen-year-old he recalled Alun of Irimor introducing him to, on her first foray into Court. " _Two_ lone wolves? If I find them together, surely they cannot be lone."

"I suggest you would find them separate, for even the wolves would realise it was folly to stay around here, designed as it is to catch the best of the wind."

It had been far too long since he had heard her laugh, he realised. The few moments they spent together were always wrapped in wanting and needing, followed closely by self-restraint. He had forgotten how easy it was just to be with her, without letting it be clouded.

"I hold that you are jealous of my idea," Roanna said, smiling at him. "You desire this palace for yourself once the leaves start to drop. You will pretend to be off on some masterful crusade, one so brave that it will make ladies swoon at your very name. Of course, in reality, you will have been here all along, wanting for nothing."

Gareth made a dismissive sound. "And come the hot weather, you should find my deceitful skeleton, having wasted away for want of even the company of goats."

They grinned at each other for a moment. Roanna was the one to break eye contact. "You have me. I give in," she declared finally. "If I didn't freeze once the first snows came, I would be bored to death on my own."

"You would never be on your own," Gareth replied, putting a great deal more meaning into the words than he had intended. She went very still, and tilted her head towards his, gathering her lower lip in her upper teeth.

"Gareth?" she breathed rather than asked, and suddenly he couldn't even hear the waves on the shore below, so narrow was his focus. His pulse began to race, and-

"Roanna! There you are!" an exclamation came from behind, and Mithros, Gareth had never hated anybody as fiercely as he hated Roald then, even though Gareth was the one who had been about to do Roald wrong.

Roald's small party arranged themselves on or around the rug where possible, and Gareth pulled away, letting Lianne take his place whilst he got to his feet.

"Here's my brilliant, clever wife," Roald announced, threading his fingers through Roanna's, who was beginning to look faintly sick. "Darling, I asked you not to go wandering off." He cupped her face in his hand; not normally given to displays of affection, Roald had been unusually tactile since arriving at the summer palace.

It hit the Naxen siblings at the same time. Lianne stumbled to her feet, grasping hold of Gareth's arm, her long fingers digging into his flesh. He barely noticed.

Roanna was pregnant again.


	4. Pulling Threads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roanna summons Gareth to the solarium under false pretences. Written for my Donkey Discus entry.

"You took longer than I expected."

Gareth nearly dropped his stack of papers on opening the door. "Your Majesty. I was expecting-"

"My brother?" Roanna's mouth curled into a smile, but her eyes were strangely empty. "I thought you'd know for certain that the note was actually from me when it told you to meet me in the solarium. Or did you often reconvene with Alun here?"

In truth, Gareth's mind had been so preoccupied with Roanna and thoughts of the last time he had even entered the solarium all those years ago that he hadn't suspected a ruse. It looked much different in the daytime, the late autumn sunshine sending rays through the glass ceiling. The more marked difference, however, was in Roanna, looking frail and wan against the golden cushions.

Knowing he shouldn't, that he shouldn't even be on his own with her, Gareth closed the door.

"It's been a while," Roanna said quietly, picking at the embroidery on the cushion next to her. A thread had begun to fray, and she commenced the destruction of an embroidered tree. "We haven't been alone together since that first day at the summer palace, when you were called away. Urgently. You weren't really called away, though, were you?"

Mutely, he shook his head.

"I knew you weren't; I even asked the guards. No messengers that day, not for you. You were going to kiss me that afternoon."

"Roanna, please - we cannot speak this way."

Roanna pursed her lips, fingers starting to unravel the stitched tree-trunk. "Why not? I am tired of not speaking this way. I love you, Gareth. I have loved you since I was a girl, and crawling into my husband's bed felt like a betrayal of you - of what we were, or could have been."

He came to kneel at her feet, at once thrilling and nervous at being so close to her. "Roanna - Mithros, you're burning up. You are not well."

She half-smiled at him, some of the life coming back into her eyes. "I am well enough. It is easier with you here. Will you promise me you won't go anywhere?"

"I will stay if you ask it of me," he said in a low voice, "though truly, I think it best for all of us if I find other engagements."

Roanna took his hands in hers, trembling. "I'm asking it of you. I - I think I'm free to, now. I lost the baby, Gareth. Roald left as soon as he could be sure I was going to live, though to tell the truth, I think he was likely already in his saddle when he got the news. He doesn't care for Caitlyn - she wasn't enough for him. He's gone to Naxen." She pressed her lips to his knuckles. "I'm yours. If you will have me."

Gareth stared up at her, his fingers tightening in hers. This felt like a dream, the kind he would feel the most immense guilt over, for he never wanted Roanna to suffer. "Truly?"

"Truly," she confirmed. "Do you know, I used to fear that you would find somebody else, and I would have to watch you in wedded bliss?"

He smiled, because now, at least, that life was behind them. "There was no danger of that. There was never anyone for me but you."


	5. May Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty sure this is proof that Verasque can achieve anything, because I was 100% certain I was done with this series, but pre- and post-election jitters and Verasque's v subtle prompting/inspiring combined to produce this epilogue (I don't know if this is what you were expecting/hoping for, but I should caveat that I've had a rubbish bout of writer's block :'( )

It seemed to be a year of endless spring. Gareth couldn't remember a time when there was so much before him. He stretched out on the grassy bank, content, for the moment, simply to just be.

That was not, as it turned out, in his son's plans. Gareth the Younger yelled out a war cry before leaping onto his father's chest.

Gareth gasped, winded, reaching out for the wriggling three-year-old before the latter managed to escape. 

"Congratulations," Roanna said dryly, "you appear to have caught the miscreant. How do you propose to punish him?"

Gary began to squirm with even greater purpose, giggling.

"In my day," Gareth said thoughtfully, gripping Gary's wrists in one hand and his ankles in the other, "a good dunking would have done the trick."

"No, no, no, no!" Gary chanted, unaware that over his head, his parents were exchanging looks. Suddenly, Roanna took hold of his ankles, and they lifted him up together, swinging him out towards the water to the count of "one, two, three-"

-at which point, he was promptly deposited (squealing with joy) back onto the soft grass, and Roanna planted kisses upon his cheeks.

"I think you can hear him all over the fief." Caitlyn came into view, carrying what Gareth was reasonably certain was the third tome on Tortall-Gallan trade history. He supposed it made a fairly effective seat after all, though at some point, he would have to dig its companions out of the surrounding undergrowth. 

Roanna looked impossibly prouder. "Good; that's my little lion."

Gary roared obligingly, and Gareth was briefly not sure how his heart could withstand so much feeling.

In the next minute, fat raindrops splattered down upon them. If it had just been himself and Roanna, they might have stayed out, having sat through many a storm under these very trees. The children were different, though, and so he scooped Gary up easily, and noted that his book had now become a shelter for his daughter. Water damage could only improve its contents, frankly. 

It wasn't until they were close to the castle that he noticed anything was wrong. Roanna almost stumbled into him as he halted, cursing his rusty skills. 

"Take the children up through the servants' entrance," Gareth directed, hushed and careful, passing Gary over.

"Caitlyn, darling, do as your father says. Go and give Cook a big kiss and she might make you apple pie this evening," Roanna said brightly, setting Gary on his feet. "I commissioned that coach, Gareth, dear. You'll have to get up a lot earlier than that to keep me from greeting our guests."

\--

Gareth thought even his mother might be quite amused by this turn of events. Roanna had insisted that royalty could not be kept waiting, and so they stood in Zenoby's sitting room, dripping wet, clothes decorated with a small boy's muddy footprints.

"Your Majesty. To what do we owe the pleasure?"

It was difficult to bite back a grin; he had forgotten the way Roanna could sound so disdainful, even whilst saying all the proper things.

Lianne had evidently _not_ forgotten, and had prepared herself accordingly. It was clear in the ramrod posture, at odds with her beseeching tone. "Oh, please, you must call me Lianne; we are family."

Gareth winced.

His mother had always had a good nose for a tactical retreat, and she rose now. "I rather suspect that there may be two young stormclouds ransacking the castle right this moment - if nobody objects, I will excuse myself to alert the nursemaids."

"They might have the most success in the vicinity of the kitchens," Gareth advised with a grin.

Zenoby inclined her head, but had not quite crossed the room when Lianne broke in with, "What a marvellous idea - Mama, perhaps you might take Jonathan to meet his cousins."

It was, Gareth mused, quite staggering how insensitive his sister could be, in some respects. Roanna's fingers laced through his, squeezing tight as Zenoby turned. "I said that I would alert the nursemaids, Lianne, not that I intended to become one myself. Dear me, one would think that husband of yours could have supplied a nursemaid for you."

She left before Lianne could venture any sort of response, but it was likely Lianne simply would have seated herself again anyway.

"Why are you here?"

Lianne looked startled; he supposed the Gareth she knew would never have posed the question so bluntly. Maybe the Gareth she knew would have been grateful or pleased to see his sister. "Perhaps we could speak in private."

"I thought we were _family_ ," Roanna bit out. They never spoke of Lianne or Roald these days, but all the old hurt was there in the undercurrent. He felt her trembling; he thought it more likely to be from rage, but just in case, he summoned a servant to bring blankets and refreshments.

"All right," he began, once they were seated and Roanna was as near the fire as he was able to get her, "this is as private an audience as you'll get, Lianne. You can either speak now, or I'm afraid you'll have wasted your journey."

Her large, dark eyes settled on Roanna, weighing her up. Gareth shifted restlessly, wishing circumstances had been such that Roald could have been there. It was easier to hate Roald, easier to see things in black and white, but he couldn't deny that certain things had his sister's more delicate touch. Things that still welcomed Gareth himself to the palace, but not his family alongside him.

Eventually, Lianne had either gathered her nerve or decided they were in earnest. "We would like you to come back to Corus, Gareth. Sir Leyn is talking of stepping down - you know there is no one we trust more to take his position."

Beside him, Roanna let out a raw, sharp breath.

Very low, very quietly, Gareth said, "I'm afraid you have wasted your journey."

It seemed to take a minute to sink in. Lianne's fine brows drew together, and she glanced at Roanna. "Gareth, this is an opportunity - if I could just speak with you alone…"

His temper was fraying, but Roanna got there first. "I hope your Majesty will excuse me for not allowing that. I do remember what happened last time you were alone with one of my husbands."

All the colour left Lianne's face so quickly Gareth was half-afraid she might faint. "That is not the same," she said icily. "Fine. I see how it is. The King would also like to enquire after Caitlyn."

This had been the attack Gareth had been expecting, and so it was simple to respond levelly that his daughter was fine.

"His Majesty would like to see that she attends the Daughters of the Goddess Convent when she is of age. How proficient is she at languages?"

"Not at all," Gareth and Roanna said as one.

"See that she learns Tusaine. Roald's reporting a little unrest along the Drell Valley."

"If he's already aware of the unrest, I can't see what good my daughter learning an unfriendly language will do." Gareth kept his tone carefully bored, but he could feel now how these last few years with his family had unwound years of court training. He was not very far from losing his temper entirely, and he suspected he might have lost it already if it hadn't been for Roanna.

Lianne, his sweet little sister, erupted first. "Oh, do _grow up_ , both of you. That little girl could be such a benefit to the crown - we could welcome her at court for this, she could have her very own throne."

"Crown Prince Ain already has two wives," Roanna remarked. "How many more do you think he'll have collected by the time our little girl is of age?" She stood, still muddy and wet through, hair tangled in a knot at the base of her neck, and Gareth thought he might never have loved her more. "Let me make one thing clear to you - Roald renounced my daughter. He has no right to sell her off to the highest bidder just because it suits him now, just because it's occurred to him that he might not have the gaggle of blue-eyed children he pictured."

Gareth looked across at Lianne, her fingers digging into the arms of her chair. She wasn't a good negotiator, and frankly, Roald must either have been desperate or blinded by affection to have sent her. "So, you see, you cannot have me, and you cannot have my daughter. Now, we understand if this curtails your visit to our humble fief. If you want to stay a few more days, we'll allow it only on the condition that you do not try to communicate with Caitlyn without either of us present."

\--

Lianne stayed, of course, and she tried again to persuade him, of course. Eventually, he tired and left her to their mother.

Jonathan had turned out to be an engaging, bright-eyed child, with a predilection for being places he shouldn't. Perhaps it was a good thing that he would likely never be close with Gary; Gareth could see the servants' nerves were worn thin from just an afternoon. In any event, his sticky-fingered charm won Roanna round to the extent that she was even singing when Gareth entered their bedchamber that evening.

"You seem to be in good spirits," he noted, amused to see that the reason Briel had been unable to find his brocade robe was because his wife had pilfered it.

She smiled at him, folding back the covers so that he was easily able to climb into bed with her. "I think maybe tomorrow or the day after, we should have a serious discussion about whether festering away in this fief is the best thing for you." She held a finger up, silencing any protests. "And tonight - tonight we should work on providing me with another companion to amuse me in your potential absence."

He grinned, reaching across to entwine the fingers of their outer hands, eyes dropping to the sliver of flesh exposed by the opening of the brocade robe. "I accept your terms, your Grace." 

A quick tug at their linked hands brought their faces very close together; Roanna shifted into a more commanding position. "Very wise of you, Naxen. I feel it is incumbent on me to warn you that, should you leave the fief, you may return to find I have declared it a republic."

"That is the best idea I think I've heard all day."

"Second best," Roanna corrected, and shrugged off the robe.


End file.
